


Circles

by andromaida



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Mild Suicidal Ideation, One Shot, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, cal suffers :(, not a feel good fic sorry!!, spoilers for jedi fallen order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromaida/pseuds/andromaida
Summary: "We run away but we’re running in circles"Now that they’d found him once, they wouldn’t stop until they’d found him for the last time.
Kudos: 39





	Circles

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda just rambles about the fears Cal might be having throughout his mission and trying to escape the Empire and the Inquisitors. Like I said in the tags not a super happy fic and no clear resolution, just thoughts and thinking about what might be going on inside his head. Poor boy's been through a lot. :( also super short so apologies for that, i'm new to writing and gotta ease into it, haha.
> 
> Also the title/fic is mildly inspired by Circles by Post Malone lol idk the subject/meaning of the song doesn't align super well but some of the lyrics taken out of context kind of inspired me and made me think about Cal?? Idk y'all I just associate the two haha.

Now that they’d found him once, they wouldn’t stop until they’d found him for the last time.

He had exposed himself, used the Force to save Prauf, his only friend on that goddamn planet, and in the end it hadn’t even done any good. Prauf had still died to protect him, just like Master Tapal. He really couldn’t save anyone, his friends, his Master, probably not even himself. He didn’t really know what hope he had anymore, except that it was all he could do, to run, and keep running. All around the galaxy. Sure, Cere had a plan to restore the Jedi Order, and sure, Cal was desperate for it to work, but the cautious optimism he showed on the surface was masking the fear that he was doomed to bring pain to everything and everyone he came into contact with. He felt like he was cursed. But he didn’t know what else to do, and at least here on the Mantis, on this journey, he wasn’t alone anymore.

So he ran, and continued to run. From Bracca, to Bogano, to Zeffo, to Kashyyyk, to Dathomir. It wouldn’t end until he found the holocron, until he knew the names of those force-sensitive children that would rebuild the Jedi Order. And then what? Was it really ever over? They keep running, and now these kids are with him, he’s trying to protect a dozen or more Padawans, and shit, he’s not really more than a Padawan himself, with his broken connection to the Force. How could he keep them safe from the Empire when the Empire was, well, the Empire? He was so afraid and he hated it.

What would he do if they caught him? Would he crack, just like the Ninth Sister had told him he would during their battle on Kashyyyk? He wanted to believe he wouldn’t. That he would die before he became a bloodhound for them, tracking down any remaining force-sensitives with his psychometry, but he knew better Jedi than himself had fallen. He thought of Trilla, and the pain in Cere’s voice each time they spoke of the Second Sister. He knew he was too valuable to let die, that they would just torture him until he broke instead. He felt his blood run cold when the thought crossed his mind, and he tried to banish the idea to the back of his consciousness, but it still surfaced, and haunted him. He didn’t get much sleep most nights, scared if he closed his eyes, he would see the Imperial torture chambers where people like him went to die. Those who reemerged were no longer themselves, but instead bloodthirsty, shattered shells of who they once were.

Sometimes he thought it might be better to die before they could find him, but the guilt he felt over those who had died for him kept him alive. To succumb to the cowardice and fear would be to spit in the face of the sacrifices others made. He couldn’t do it. He had to be strong. He felt the weight of the entire galaxy on his shoulders, but it was a burden he could never put down, not even for a minute. The Empire would never stop chasing him, never stop trying to eradicate him and everyone like him. This was what it meant to be a rebel.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been now, it felt like a blur, and while the pain of Prauf’s death still felt so fresh, just like Master Tapal’s before him, he felt like his time as a scrapper on Bracca was ages ago. This was his life now, one friend falling before him, and the next, and the next. Running from the Inquisitors and leaving trails of blood in his wake. He only wondered when it would fail him, and what would happen to him when he couldn’t run anymore.


End file.
